


Dust & Shadow

by heartsblade



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Crossover, Gen, Resident Evil - Freeform, Survival Horror, Until Dawn - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 05:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsblade/pseuds/heartsblade
Summary: Barry Burton leaves the Burton Lodge to his co-workers to celebrate Leon Kennedy's promotion and have a weekend getaway to wrap up the holidays. The rumoured and infamous Arklay Mountains harbour a dark secret and ancient evil, and what should be a relaxing getaway turns into a night of terror and a struggle for survival.





	1. PROLOGUE.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first work on here so um, yeah. I decided to do a Until Dawn/Resident Evil crossover and this is the end result! I wanted to combine both videogame lore and add a twist of my own so it brings something new to the table while (hopefully) staying true to both! I hope you enjoy reading this and stick around long enough to see what I have in store!
> 
> This fic takes place in 2015, but all the characters are portrayed and written as they are in the videogames prior to Resident Evil 4.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of Leon Kennedy's promotion spreads and Chris Redfield tells him the plans he and their mutual friends made to celebrate over the upcoming holiday break.

**PROLOGUE: FORTUNA CAECA EST.**

_“Fortune is blind.”_

**12:35 pm. One week ago.**

The news of the promotion spread fast like a wildfire, and became just as difficult to extinguish once it grew to a formidable size. Leon Kennedy was not short on congratulations and well wishes when he had been first inducted into the Raccoon City Police Department, and with the proverbial leg up he had regarding his recent move into their Special Tactics and Rescue Squad, he had a lot more coming for him. Though proud and esteemed of his remarkable accomplishment, Leon remained humble, and bore the weight of his congratulations with a smile and a return slap on the shoulder for the ones he received in passing. The current members of S.T.A.R.S were just as excited to have a new recruit, and were forthcoming in their welcome and warm wishes.

He remains seated at his desk, the offer letter still tightly held in his hands as if he were afraid to hold it with a slack grip, rendered powerless to do anything but watch the opportunity slip away from his fingers. If he didn’t act on it soon, that just might be the case, and he couldn’t live with that.

“Congrats, Kennedy.” The cool, collected voice belonging to none other than Chris Redfield floats like music to his ears, and every bit as appeasing. He swivels in his chair to face his soon-to-be Alpha teammate, the grin splitting his face anything but insincere. Chris extends a closed fist for Leon to bump with his own before he seats himself on the corner of his desk, coffee in hand. “Made it to the big leagues, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess I did. Been a long haul, but I ain’t complaining.” And he’s not; he wouldn’t even dream of it in the first place. 

“Mm.” Chris hums into his mug, his eyebrows cocked upward with revelation, the kind of face someone makes when they remember something important. “Right, I almost forgot. We wanna celebrate your transfer over the holidays. Barry’s out, but he’s offered to lend us his lodge for the weekend to make up for it.”

There’s a lot to unpack there.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa-- hold on… a lodge? Am I missing something here?”

“Something like that. It’s out in the Arklay Mountains, close to the ski resort.”

“Do I get a say in this?!” Leon thinks everything is moving a little too quick; that, or he’s moving a little too slow to catch up. “Isn’t that a little much? Aren’t the mountains… you know…?”

“Barry’s cabin’s pretty far out of the way for anyone to bother us.”

“Who’s all gonna be there?”

“Well,” Chris sets his cup down and folds his hands loosely atop his thighs. He looks off into the distance, his eyes a glittering, dancing sea of blue under the light; Leon understands what people mean when they say it’s easy to get lost in someone’s eyes. “Myself, Jill, Claire--”

“Claire’s gonna be there? Oh… sorry.”

“Thank you. Rebecca’s thinking of coming, and I think Jill invited one of her other friends. So that leaves you and whoever else you wanna bring.”

“Geez, you guys left no stone unturned, huh? But I mean, the mountains…”

“It’ll be fine.”

Still, some part of Leon thinks they’re doing a lot for him and he has so little to offer in return. He feels himself fluster at getting excited over Claire coming, and since that slip up, he felt Chris’ gaze bore into him like lasers at a steel beam. He swallows audibly. “Can’t really say no, now can I?”

“Mm, not really.”

“I thought so.”

“It’ll be this coming weekend. I’ll send directions to everyone.”

“Oh, okay. Cool. I mean, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

With that, Chris leaves, dismissing himself with a nod to Leon, who is still trying to come to terms with how quickly everything went. Once some of it has begun to sink in-- and by some, definitely a little-- he picks up his phone and swipes until he finds Ada’s number. He contemplates including the details, and decides against it-- he’ll simply relay the directions to her once he receives them.

“This is gonna be one hell of a trip,” he says aloud, pressing send and slumping back into his seat. He didn’t know Rebecca as much as he did Chris, Jill and Claire, and of the three, he knew Claire the most. In retrospect, none of them knew Ada, and he didn’t have an inkling of an idea of who might be Jill’s friend, so it would be nice to meet new people and strengthen the bonds he shares with his current friend circle.

_And hopefully avoid getting mauled to death._

It’s a good opportunity to put the gruesome murders behind them, at least for a little while. He nods to himself, gently turning back and forth in his seat whilst tapping a pen against the armrest. Yeah, it’ll do them some good. They all needed a break, to step away and recollect themselves. It’ll be a good weekend, provided that he successfully avoids delving too deeply into the rumour mill and urban legends clouding the beauty of the mountains like a rain cloud on a good day. He’s got a bit of a habit for talking himself out of things like that; he refuses to give in to his gut telling him how badly everything could go so quick, so fast, he’d be left spinning…

“So it’s settled.”

He looks down at his phone and grins at the notification he received regarding Ada’s reply. Now their party of six became a party of seven; what could possibly go wrong?

 _Everything_ the pessimist in him replies.


	2. CHAPTER 1.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris, Rebecca and Claire make their way to the lodge. Jill and Carlos run into an unexpected visitor, and Leon is running late for his own party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter WAS going to be much longer, but I figured this is a good place to leave off for now!

**CHAPTER ONE: FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNO.**

_“The path to hell is easy.”_

**9:21 pm. 10 hours until dawn.**

His hands and face are accustomed to the bitter and biting wind that blew snow all around the cable car station they presided. Had he not sat outside for as long as he did, Chris Redfield would surmise that the weather isn’t as bad as it feels. In the end, it wasn’t so awful if he took into consideration the favor he was paying forward to his sister and their friend, Rebecca Chambers, who sat inside the station at his insistence. He is in the process of waiting and watching for the cable car to arrive, subjecting himself to the frigid air and potential danger of whatever may lurk in the trees and shadows and the corner of his eye, if only to keep the girls inside under a proverbial lock and key from potential harm and danger.

Over the past year, the Arklay Mountains surrounding the midwestern town of Raccoon City had gotten increasingly dangerous. Hikers went missing, bodies were discovered eviscerated by what was assumed to be the work of vicious animals, and in almost all cases, bodies were never found at all. It’s been hypothesized that the brunt of the disappearances and bludgeonings were to be held accountable by wild, savage animals. Responsibility (or lack thereof) fell into the hands of the missing and dismembered. The frequency of the attacks thereafter led to a public service announcement, and the Arklay Mountains were officially deemed unsafe and hazardous to the public. 

Eventually, the cases fell out of the hands of the RCPD and into the jurisdiction of S.T.A.R.S. The ‘animal attack’ approach had been quickly decimated in a matter of weeks, and now the cases were ordained to be cannibalistic homicides. Not long after S.T.A.R.S were placed in charge of the cases, one of the RCPD’s own officers proved himself to be above and beyond his fellow man and woman. His talent and expertise aligned with what S.T.A.R.S sought in a candidate, and just last week, he was inducted into the division with warm welcomes and congratulations thrown his way.

Officer Leon Kennedy transferred to the RCPD after graduating the academy at the tender age of twenty one, just barely a year ago. His acquaintance had already been made amongst some members of the Alpha team, and by extension, Rebecca Chambers, who was a member of S.T.A.R.S Bravo team. They wanted to celebrate the monumental occasion and welcome their newest member into the family with a superlative commemoration; unfortunately, the timing interfered with the predetermined plans of many, and the celebration had been dramatically reduced from a large scale to a smaller one.

To make up for his unavailability, Barry Burton entrusted the keys and safekeeping of the family lodge to Chris, who had not only been his oldest and closest friend since their days together in the air force, but someone he considered family, and he believed this to be the least he can do all things considered. The lodge, if Chris recalled correctly, was a grandiose and spacious estate located in the folds of the Arklay Mountains at the head of a popular ski slope. It was more than enough to hold a considerable amount of people, though after all was said and done, when invites were passed around and extended outside their immediate squadrons, only seven people could make it.

Of those seven people, two were personally invited as plus ones. Aside from Chris, his sister Claire, his partner and coworker Jill Valentine, Bravo team rookie Rebecca and Leon himself, Carlos Oliveira and Ada Wong were cordially invited to participate in their weekend getaway. Chris didn’t know these people personally, but Jill told him Carlos was a good friend of hers and Ada’s only correlation was to Leon.

Everyone agreed to meet up at the lodge by ten o’clock, and since Chris was the chosen one with the keys, it then became his responsibility to get the place up and running for when the others arrived. The quickest way to the lodge from the bottom of the slope was through the cable car. The thing was old and unreliable; the issue had been brought to the attention of the county more than once and yet nothing had been done to improve its rapidly worsening condition. He volunteered to wait for it outside to keep the girls warm and safe inside, and momentarily shelter them from the unforgiving wind that bit his cheeks, nipped his nose, clawed into the exposed skin of his hands.

_Shoulda brought gloves._

And so he sits, chilled to the bone, settled on a bench beneath a gathering of moths flocking to a light above that cast a weak, golden glow over the snow covered premises. No matter which way he sliced it, it was better this way for the wellbeing of the women inside, and because of them, he is ever more vigilant in his watch. His attention is drawn to the mechanical sound of the cable car pulling in; he stands and pokes his head into the office to alert the others.

“About damn time,” Claire comments, bending down to pick up her bag and sling it over her shoulder. “I was starting to think we’d never get outta here.”

Rebecca sits with one leg up on the desk, and carefully extricates herself from it with a nod, her pale green eyes surveying the immediate area to make sure they didn’t leave anything behind. Claire’s already boarded the car when Rebecca comes outside, her cheeks red and ruddy with exposure. She and Chris take their seats and wait for the doors to close, which feels like an eternity.

“They really oughta put heaters in these things,” Claire manages through shivering, chattering teeth when they start to ascend.

“We’re almost there, Claire. Just hold on a little while longer,” her brother reassures with a smile, though for all the good it did for her impatience, it certainly did nothing to warm her any; her only response is an aporetic ‘yeah’ drawn out under her breath. Rebecca looks between the siblings with a gentle, placated smile drawn across her slightly chapped lips from biting them so often in the harsh weather. 

“So…” She lightly slaps her thighs and shrugs her shoulders, leaving them hunched for a moment, and once that moment has come and gone, she lets them sag with a sharp exhale, “mountains, huh? I haven’t been up this way before, so this is completely new to me. Even the view takes my breath away.”

“Claire and I’ve been here a couple times with the Burtons. Sometimes during the summer, sometimes not. Kathy refuses to take no for an answer when it comes to dinners and celebrations,” Chris exhales with a laugh, to which Claire agrees with a slow, deliberate nod in the youth’s direction, her lips slightly pursed. “Though since Claire got into university and Barry and I joined S.T.A.R.S, we haven’t been around as much. It’ll be refreshing.”

“I think we all need this, y’know? It’ll be a nice change of pace for us after… well, after everything.” Rebecca knows this trip is much needed and appreciated among everyone in the office. Since they’ve been put in charge of the cases, everyone’s been working their asses off. She finds it somewhat ironic that where they’re going is, incidentally, the cause of all the disquietude and overexertion ensnaring them all with its oppressive shadow. She hopes this will turn the tides and improve everyone’s morale. Chris nods and turns to the window, his elbow propped on the ledge to give his chin something to sit upon. It’s evident in the blue of his eye and sharp slant of his mouth that he doesn’t wish to discuss matters further, particularly in front of his sister, who doesn’t seem to be paying them much mind, but who is Rebecca to judge? Perhaps she’s more perceptive than she gives the younger Redfield credit for. With a sigh, she mirrors their positions and allows herself to be taken in by the beautiful sights of the trees and mountains that slowly crawl past her field of vision.

_Let’s just hope for the best,_ she resigns inwardly, trying her damndest to ignore the creeping, crawling feeling of solicitude travelling the length of her spine.

**9:45 pm.**

“Think they’ll be here anytime soon?”

“God, I hope so.”

Two figures encased in shadow occupy the steps of the aphotic and caliginous lodge. One of them is Jill Valentine, who sits with her arms folded tightly over her chest, and beside her is Carlos Oliveira, his hand bracketing a cell phone, thumb swiping rapidly to scroll.

They arrived early at Jill’s behest; perhaps a little too early, since nobody’s here and the lodge looms over them, lifeless and void of light. Jill busies herself with a novel, occasionally glancing up to look around. On the way up and all the way to the lodge, they spoke about the changes in their lives and what they’ve done since the last time they met all those months ago, leaving not a whole lot to discuss once they arrived. They sat in a comfortable and commodious silence.

Jill learned that Carlos left his previous place of employment and applied for the S.T.A.R.S division somewhere in Maine. Things were looking up so far, and Carlos had his fingers proverbially crossed that he’ll be accepted. As for Jill, she spoke about her big move from her shitty little apartment to a small, picturesque house with a nice yard, and briefly touched upon the homicides she and her team were currently investigating. It was a heavy, perplexing subject to speak of, this Carlos picked up on immediately from her expressions and carefully chosen words, so he asked as little as possible with respect to her comfort; for that, she is infinitely grateful.

The impregnated silence that followed made everything seem ominous and disconcerting. The wilderness surrounding them could be heard all around; the scuttle of a rodent, the bend and bow of trees to the wind and the rustling of their pines and branches, every breath she and Carlos drew, and the occasional puff of laughter he released when he found a post or video particularly funny. She could even hear whatever played in his headphones. 

She hears something snap and break, which pulls her attention from her book once more. A swift glimpse to her side reassures her that Carlos is just as absorbed in his phone as ever, and decrees it nothing more than nature maintaining its balance. Another sound, this time she thinks Carlos is screwing with her intentionally, yet when she glances over, he’s still there, smiling loopily at his phone.

_Then what the hell?_

A sudden sharp gust of wind blows, the sound of it alike a piercing shriek. It does, momentarily, dismantle her composure, and she snaps her head up the same time Carlos turns to her, thumb suspended mid-air, a single headphone caught between his fingers, the head of it dangling there when the wind changes direction.

“You hear that?”

“Yeah…” She bends a page of her book to mark where she’s left off and shuts it. They stand simultaneously, looking around in hopes of discovering what might have been the cause of that alarming, inhuman sonority. Some small, incremental part of her wants to believe and convince herself that it was the wind, and nothing more; and yet the large, pragmatic presence inside tells her there’s no way wind can sound like that. Her body is wracked with shivers, and not a single one of them are from the frigid air. She thinks the sound itself pulled all the warmth from her body. There’s another shriek, this one closer than the last; this time, she looks to Carlos with panic.

She inhales, tremulous and unsure, her mind millions of miles ahead of her and she’s in no position to try and catch up. Her mind runs away with all sorts of possibilities, all of which leave her breathless, spinning, disoriented. In that moment, she recalls all the terrible, awful things she read about in the case reports and momentarily forgets all the work she and Chris put into supporting the cannibalistic murder narrative. She thinks of rabid animals, uncontrollable, savage things driven mad with hunger, circling them like an exhibit, waiting to deliver the killing strike. Her legs begin to shake.

_Whatever it is... it's coming. It's coming, it’s coming, shit--_

There’s a thud from directly behind, precipitous and stentorian in the deafening silence. They both leap off the steps with their guns in hand.

**9:50 pm.**

“Okay, question: why did you bring your gun?”

“Protection.”

“Why don’t I have one?”

“Why would you need one?”

“Why do YOU need one?”

“I just told you why.”

“Chris!”

“Claire.”

“Both of you!” Rebecca’s exasperation became a body of water, drowning her words when she pitches her voice high above the squabbling siblings. She held her tongue up the path, across the bridge and through the densely packed woods, both her head and mouth beginning to ache with the effort. They spare her a glance, seemingly directing their irritation to her, and she holds her hands out to concede. 

“We’re--” she breaks off with a heavy sigh, “--Look, we’re almost there, okay guys?” 

Smug satisfaction crawls along her pointed features when the siblings quiet down, though she keeps it concealed behind a carefully composed expression. She can see the lodge in the distance, a dark shadowy structure that would give the impression it was haunted. It certainly did for her.

When they reach the fence, Rebecca can make out the vague outline of three figures standing by the steps; two of them seem to be in a defensive position, weapons trained on the third figure, who appears to be standing on the landing with a hand haphazardly settled atop the banister. Rebecca strains to hear what they’re saying over the sound of Chris fumbling with the lock on the gate.

“...jumpy, are we?”

“...and you are?”

“What’s going on here?” Chris inquires, his voice authoritative and solemn in contrast to the teasing, easy-going tone he held on the way there. Jill’s the first to lower her weapon, with the man they all collectively assumed to be Carlos following shortly thereafter, showing a great deal of reluctance in doing so. Upon closer inspection, the third figure appears to be a woman. Her features are difficult to distinguish in the darkness, though her bright red, fur lined jacket can be seen easily.

“It’s fine, Chris. This is…”

“Ada Wong.” The woman steps out from the shadows, a grin splitting her face with something akin to amusement. She holds a hand out to Chris, purposefully overlooking the two rightfully shame-faced officers in the process of putting away their weapons. Jill’s eclipsed with her shame; Carlos appeared flushed, if not somewhat apprehensive to be letting his guard down. Chris recognized that look in the faces of men with distrust sitting heavy in their hearts. He takes Ada’s hand nonetheless with a polite smile. 

“Chris. Chris Redfield. My sister Claire, and our friend, Rebecca. You’re Leon’s…”

“Indeed. And they are…?” she pivots to face the other two; she almost appears to be bemused with their discomfort and imminent reflection on their actions. Her expression made it difficult to well and truly determine what she was feeling and thinking; Chris can sort of see why it might put Carlos on edge.

“Jill Valentine. I’m… really sorry about that,” she laughs, nervous and bashful, a hand extended to shake. “We were-- well, y’know… you just… outta nowhere, y’know?”

“And you?” Ada cranes her neck past Jill to see Carlos, who stood awkwardly with a hand scratching aimlessly at his neck, ignoring the flustered woman’s incessant and circumlocutory babble.

“Carlos… uh, Oliveira, sorry.” It would seem he’s apologising for nearly forgetting his last name, opposed to pulling his weapon on her. The younger man gave a two finger wave to the trio as they approached, the sound of the gate closing nearly startling Jill out of her skin; she looked like she was just getting settled back into it.

“No harm, no foul. Not exactly the most ideal first impression to have, but nothing a little hot chocolate and warm cookies can’t fix.” Ada stands aside and gestures for Chris to pass. He begins to wonder how she knew he had the keys in the first place, before he rationalizes that Leon probably notified her beforehand. 

_We’ve all had a long day._

Yeah, that’s a good enough reason for all of them to be on edge. Being in the thick of the mountains that became the pinnacle of their investigation didn’t help matters much; they might as well have made themselves blind sheep walking unwittingly into a slaughterhouse.

“Hey Jill,” he greets rather belatedly when he passes, flashing her a heartfelt smile that alleviates some of her own embarrassment. He quickly shakes hands with Carlos and leaves the five of them to converse and get to know one another while he gets the door open. It’s not until the door’s open and the lights are flicked on that he remembers something vitally important.

“Hey, Leon’s not with you guys, is he?”

“Oh, um,” Carlos was in the process of bending down to pick up his and Jill’s bags when he snaps his fingers, “he said he’ll be here a little later. He had something to take care of.”

“What?!” Claire pauses in the threshold to pass an incredulous look among the group, her bags falling to the floor with a loud bang so she can cross her arms. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Who’s late to their own party?!”

“Leon, apparently,” Rebecca mumbles, gently squeezing herself between Chris and Claire. Chris holds the door open for everyone to trample through, and once Carlos passes (marking the last of them), he releases it, the wind slamming shut the moment the other man is through.

“What got you two all riled up, anyway?” He asks, directing his question to Carlos and Jill, who were in the process of divesting themselves of their jackets. They exchange a look, something indecipherable to Chris but evidently, something they alone understood resided in their gaze. He folds his arms across his chest.

“We… kinda spooked ourselves,” Jill words are slow, deliberate, as if she carefully plucked each syllable from the basket of honesty and arranged them to deliver a half-truth, leaving the rest of it to be found among the rest of the fruit. “And, well... Ada caught us off guard.”

“Did somethi--”

The group collectively startles when the lights shut off, incidentally throwing them into total darkness. For a moment, Chris finds it nigh impossible to see anything; his eyes have yet to adjust to the sudden change. If he were honest with himself, what startled him most had been his sister’s gasp, and he stays absolutely still out of instinct to try and pick up anything out of the ordinary taking place within or outside of the lodge. Everyone else seems to harbor the same idea; hell, if he didn’t know any better, he swore they all stopped breathing at the same exact moment. Even his sister, though he had himself to thank for training her well and preparing her for situations as precipitous and unexpected as this one. 

“Everyone okay?” He asks, disarming the silence once a solid minute or so passes and the only sounds he can process are their breathing patterns, some quicker than the rest. Once everyone’s given their assent, he fumbles for his lighter, flicking it to life at the same time as Carlos. Rebecca and Claire turn on the flashlights on their phones, and Jill slowly reaches into her bag for the spotlight she carried with her to illuminate the trail for herself and Carlos on their way up.

“Could be the generator,” Rebecca breathes, her exhale visible in the rapidly cooling air. The men quietly move about the house, lighting candles and feeling their way around, occasionally bumping into things as they went. Once their eyes began to adjust, things became easier to see, and after all the candles within their immediate surroundings were lit, Chris felt himself relax incrementally when they all gathered in the spacious sitting room.

“Right, so… we gotta have a plan,” he starts, positioning himself by the fireplace to get it going. His voice had an instant effect on his peers, effectively drawing their attention to him when he stands and pockets his lighter. “I’m gonna go take a look at the generator. Someone can uh… look for some blankets, just in case. If you want, Claire, you can show them around the house and guest rooms. Whatever you guys wanna do, the floor is yours.”

“Will you be alright going by yourself?” Jill begins to extricate herself from her seat when Chris strides across the room and gently pushes her back down.

“I’ll be fine. Promise. Everyone else here can hold down the fort.”

“While you gentlemen figure things out, I’ll be taking a bath.”

Up until that moment, Ada had been deathly silent. So silent, in fact, nearly everyone forgot her presence entirely, minus the man who had been wary of her since he put away his gun. She starts to go up the stairs, though when she begins to ascend, she stops dead, turning to face Claire with a perfectly neutral countenance as always. “Won’t you show me where it is?”

“Oh! Yeah, um, of course. Right this way,” Claire pockets her phone and bounces up the stairs, flashing a warm smile Ada’s way when she passes. Jill and Rebecca settle close to the fire and start to make idle conversation, all the while Chris begins to re-dress and brave himself for the unsavoury conditions awaiting him outside. Something feels off, something feels deeply wrong and he doesn’t want to acknowledge his gut telling him this likely won’t be just another trip, and that surmounting anxiety solidifies his decision when he settles his hand on the door knob.

With a final glance to the girls and a parting salute to Carlos, he opens the door and disappears into the blizzard, leaving behind the warm comfort and safety of the lodge. Dread settles in the pit of his stomach like a hard ball of lead, seemingly weighing him down when he trudges through the rapidly piling snow and into the dark, indeterminable woods before him. He knows wildlife is all around him and very much active, watching for hunters, eyeing him from the safety of the trees and bushes with curiosity, filled with instinctive fear that emanated from prey in the face of their predators.

He had no way of knowing something else was watching him, curiously, ogling every move, sensing every move, committing every step and passing breath to memory from the darkness it dwelled.


	3. CHAPTER 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Jill find themselves in a predicament; Rebecca has a strange experience; Claire goes to meet Leon, and Carlos finds himself alone at the lodge with Ada.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This one's longer than the last! Thank you so much for reading this far if you have! I hope you keep reading!

**CHAPTER TWO: A FRONTE PRAECIPITIUM A TERGO LUPI.**

_“A precipice in front, wolves behind.”_

**10:15 pm. 9 hours until dawn.**

The path to the shed is easy to find and follow, considering it was a well remembered route that Chris embedded into his mind from the myriad of visits he paid to the Burtons with Claire in tow. Despite the density of the closely-packed trees and the shadows they cast, combined with the unruly wind and blowing snow, he could see where he was going. In another fifteen minutes or so, he’d be at his destination; were it not for the current circumstance, he would love nothing more than to be there from the moment he stepped outside of the house, and have returned just as fast.

It’s not quotidian of Chris to be overwhelmed with the feelings he is currently in possession of. The woods, quiet and stoic in their overshadowing presence, breed a disquieting, sinister air that casts a profound titillation of fearfulness he knows not the cause of. It always deeply unsettles him to be lacking answers for all the questions he yearns to relinquish, or to have an explanation for the things that he simply could not begin to fathom, at the very least.

From the moment he left the lodge, he felt nothing but discomfort and something alike having the hairs on his neck and arms stand on end; like something, or someone was watching him, and he had not an inkling of where to begin looking to determine where it was coming from. At one point, he attempted to rationalize with himself that it was his mind running rampant and he simply imagined someone lurking in the shadows, but Chris can attest that, despite his rather tumultuous career in the USAF, there was something he learned from his time there and has stuck with him since: _trust your gut._ Never dismiss the things your gut tries to tell you, and try as he might, it is simply impossible to accomplish, and thus he occasionally calls out to see if he’ll get a reply, or admonish whoever he thinks to be trailing him as a joke that simply lacked in the humour it was meant to produce.

Nothing.

When he reaches the shed, Chris flashes his light on something that moves just beyond the structure and startles an elk attempting to eat. The discovery does put some of his anxiety at ease, having some idea that the feeling of being watched could simply be him overthinking. Once he’s inside, he feels infinitely safer as opposed to being out in the open and vulnerable to whatever may be taking refuge in the dark recesses of the woods he could not reach with his keen sense of sight.

He bites into his flashlight and crouches near the generator. Just as he thought, it appears to be shut off-- and a closer inspection warrants that the piece of machinery had been, in fact, tampered with. He sighs, and momentarily wishes Joseph Frost was nearby to call upon his services. If there’s a man who knew what to do when it came down to machines and the like, it was Joseph. He once saw the man completely dismantle a vehicle and put it together without a single flaw; the man was truly talented at his craft, hence his role in S.T.A.R.S and occasional off-site employment to assist his teammates in whatever mechanical disruption they may experience.

However, Chris knew that there was no way in hell he could get ahold of Joseph and employ his skill; therefore, he would have to make do with what he had, and so he uses what little knowledge he possessed to put the generator together. Whoever, or whatever tampered with it, seemed to know what they were doing, and that bit of information alone put Chris at a further disadvantage and plunged him further into the well of perplexity. Who would do such a thing, and why, especially at a time like this?

Upon his arrival, the night reclaimed the silence it bore. Every creak and groan of the old shed brushed against his nerves like a live wire above a pool of water. He stops occasionally to put his ear to the ground, in the manner of speaking, and separate the sounds to determine if something was amiss or not. In a matter of moments, the generator is in working order; all that’s left is to yank on the handle and revive it from the cold clutches of momentary inactivity it fell into. He goes to do just that, throwing his back and strength into it, his lip finding itself caught between his teeth with concentration when it doesn’t give the first two times he pulls.

_Comeoncomeoncomeon, you stupid piece of shit…_

**_Whump!_ **

“Oh, Jesus- shit!”

Something slams against the window facing his back; something heavy, lofty, like a bear; he freezes, literally, his body locking with the shock that plunged deep into his bones, rendered him immobile, freezed over his beating heart, his eyes wide with the suddenness of it. In the next second, he’s on his feet, gun pointed to the window, safety clicking off. He takes a classic shooter’s position, his breath labored and quick. There’s a face pressed against the glass, which disappears in a split second, and then there’s a laugh, shrill and delighted; he feels his face heat up with embarrassment when Jill appears in the doorway with her hands on her thighs, doubled over and weak with her peal of laughter.

“Gotcha!” She chokes out between the cacophony she created with wheezes and boisterous mirth that only served to worsen his condition as time passed. He holsters his weapon with a look caught somewhere between irritation and relief.

“What the Christ, Jill?! What was that for? Have you lost your goddamn mind? What possessed you to do that, huh?!” None of his inquiries were answered, save for her escalated laughter and the occasional slap of a hand against her thigh.

“You-- you should’ve seen-- oh Chris, you-- _'aaaah!’_ hahaha!” She pantomimes his reaction, her hands coming up to shake with the act; a snort, a shriek, and she throws her head back. “You should’ve-- your fa-face, oh honey--”

“What if I shot you? I could’ve, you know! Or clocked you! I don’t-- I-- I can’t even begin to think which is worse!”

Her cachinnation carries on, effectively drowning out his bewildered, nonplussed rambling about all the dangers she unwittingly presented with her stunt. After some time, it dies down, resulting in her wiping away the tears that gathered and spilled with the pain of her belly-aching laugh and a very unimpressed Chris, who stood with his arms crossed, his cheeks an angry scarlet hue with the intensity of his embarrassment. She slaps a hand on his shoulder and gives it a gentle shake, her head leaning against it momentarily, the last of her merriment dying away with diluted giggling. “I’m sorry, Chris. Really, I am. I just, you were… I couldn’t help myself!”

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever,” a hand comes to settle atop hers, and they lock gazes; the blue of his eye held no heat, no venom, and his statement carried none of it out. She sighs, moving away from him to take a gander about their surroundings.

“We should probably get outta here… this place gives me the creeps.” 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

**10:45 pm.**

“Hey, where’s Jill?”

Claire descends the stairs with a hand gliding down the railing, disturbing the layer of dust that gathered there from disuse. Rebecca peeks around the corner and meets the younger Redfield at the landing, her petite hands overlapping the bottom post.

“She got kinda worried about Chris, so she decided to go check on him. Carlos is still,” she gives a vague gesture of her hand, “puttering around here somewhere, looking for blankets.”

“And no Leon yet, huh?”

“Mm-mm.” Rebecca gives a shake of her head, lips folded inward with her eyes closed, and Claire sighs, her disappointment heavy and apparent with it. She walks past the medic and throws herself down onto the sofa, exhaling once more with a bilabial trill.

_Poor girl, she looks like a deflated balloon._

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” she offers, moving to rest her elbows on the back of the sofa Claire occupied, her phone obscuring a large portion of her face, leaving traces of thunderous grey eyes illuminated by the bright screen. Claire makes a non-committal noise and keeps scrolling some app or other, seemingly not paying much attention to Rebecca. This indicated to her that the girl had no intention to conversate any further, and so she takes her cue to leave and resume exploring the premises with the guidance of a lit candle.

Neither Redfield had been kidding when they said the place was huge. Rebecca had to embed certain parts of the house in her brain as landmarks so she wouldn’t end up hopelessly lost. Shortly after Jill departed, she took it upon herself to explore the first floor. She’s seen the TV room, the kitchen, the dining room, a bathroom, one of the hallways that led to another bathroom and a bedroom, and had just been going down another set of stairs that went into what she assumed to be the basement, though she only got insofar as the cinema room, before she heard Claire coming down from the second floor.

In contrast to outside, the inside wasn’t nearly as foreboding and ominous. The restlessness Rebecca initially felt died away as she grew more and more familiar with the place. However, the restlessness made a reprisal when she pops into the cinema room and hears some odd sounds coming from behind a door to her left. The sounds themselves are indescribable; they varied from clanking metal, distant howling, and at one point, she thought she heard footsteps. With a slow, cautious pace, she makes her way to the door she heard the abstract and indeterminable sounds emanating from, and turns the door knob reluctantly. The door gives with a gentle push, creaking open in that typical haunted house way that put her more on edge than before. She winces at the sound of it, and proceeds further with great caution.

 _Remember all those cheap B movies from college, Becks? Remember how shit scared you were?_ her mind chastises, and memories of bad slasher flicks with shitty plots and masked murderers pour forth, disrupting all rational thought to be had, if she had begun to think rationally about her actions to begin with.

The hallway is completely made of cement, with metal pipes overhead. There’s a small set of steps in front of her that led down to another landing, and they seem to go further down yet into the bowels of the lodge. She couldn’t successfully expel every single thought that popped in her head about how this scenario played out like every slasher movie she’s seen in her life, and barely contains the shudder that wracks her body when she hears faint scuttling coming from below.

_Relax, relax, relax, come on, you’re a big girl… none of that’s real. Get a grip._

She makes it down to the third landing. From there, she can catch a glimpse of shelves lined with boxes, and as she descends, she can see a large space, nearly void entirely of belongings. Boxes lined large shelves, some gathered here and there in corners; some old toys, an old dollhouse sat dusty and cobwebbed on a table to her immediate left. Directly in front of her was another corridor, and she couldn’t even begin to fathom just where it led. 

_Creepy…_

A bang, like something falling, followed by the sound of cardboard dragging against concrete startles the absolute shit out of her. She yelps and whirls around, the candle flickering with the movement; shadows dance across the glow it produces, her own included. There’s another sound, like something scuttling across the ground, and when she looks to her right, she sees a cardboard box laying on its side.

“Is… is someone there? Stop messing around, Carlos! Seriously, dude-- not cool! You’re not being funny! ‘Haha look at Rebecca, scared out of her goddamn mind!’” Her voice dips to imitate the deepness of his own. “Seriously, knock it off!”

Nothing.

She decides to investigate the box nonetheless. In hindsight, this is probably a really, really stupid idea, but she follows through with it all the same. She crouches by the box and gently pinches one of its flaps between her middle finger and thumb.

“Ah! Oh, Jesus! Shit!”

She cries out and flinches into a standing position when a formidable rat scurries from the box and into the dark corner just ahead of her, behind one of the shelves. She shudders and backs away, her body breaking out in a cold sweat from the slight scare. She heaves a sigh, recollects herself, and carries on with her investigation deeper into the basement. Rats in basements-- _go figure._ She should’ve seen that one coming.

Down, down, deeper into the corridor, she hears something alike a shriek, though it appears to be coming from somewhere faraway. It sounds like metal against metal, fingers on a chalkboard, a fork scraping a dinner plate… could it be the wind? No, wind doesn’t sound like that… not down here, anyway. Where would the wind be coming from? 

_What… the hell is that?_

The sound echoes, seemingly closer than before; she stills, straining her ears to try and hear better. The most she can make out is something crumbling, and what she thinks to be claws digging into… concrete?

There’s another shriek, this time it’s closer than the last; she takes a deep, shuddering breath and starts to back away. Slowly. Carefully. It could be a wolverine or something, trapped further down, however unrealistic that may sound. Her heart pounds loudly in her ears, and the moment something clangs noisily overhead, she breaks into a sprint toward the staircase came down.

_Ohfuckohfuckohfuckshit it’s above me, it’s right above me shitshitshit, somebody--_

She damn near slips and falls on some of the steps with smooth edges where her feet make contact, or rather, just barely; she throws herself into the cinema room and slams the door shut, promptly locking it with a flick of her wrist. She’s breathing heavy now, sweat pouring down the column of her throat, drenching the short hairs behind her neck.

“Everything okay down there? Rebecca? Carlos? Who’s down there?”

She sighs, her shoulders visibly sagging with it. The hand carrying the candle shakes; her entire body is vibrating. She sets it down.

A hand falls on her shoulder, and she yelps, spinning wildly on her feet to face who or what touched her. Alas, the speed of her movement caused for her feet to get tangled with one another; she falls backwards, her elbows and hands painfully making contact with the floor beneath her.

“Whoa-hoa-hoa, easy, Becks! The hell’s gotten into you? What, didya see a ghost?”

Rebecca feels her face redden at the sound of Claire’s teasing tone, though she could tell there was some genuine concern woven in, and perhaps some carefully concealed jibes waiting to be unleashed once she’s gotten confirmation of her friend’s frenzied state. The medic releases a sharp exhale and takes the younger Redfield’s extended hand to pull herself up.

“Not exactly,” she huffs, retracting her hand to pull at her clothes and straighten out her appearance. She takes in Claire’s own appearance, noticing that she wore the exact same coat Chris did, the only difference being their colours; the one she saw hung up at Chris’ desk-- the one he wore even now-- had the exact same emblem as Claire. It was the one she wore when they were outside; why is she wearing it now?

“What’s with the get up? Are you going out?”

“Yeah, um,” Claire scratches behind her ear, her hand falling to her side with a slap, “Leon said he’s at the station right now, so I’m gonna go meet up with him.”

“Oh.”

“That’s okay with you, right?”

Rebecca worries her bottom lip with her teeth, her pale green eyes flitting from Claire to her surroundings. She was ill at ease with what transpired downstairs; she briefly contemplates keeping her worries and experience from Claire, though decides against it, in the event she’s withholding vital information from her and could be potentially putting her in harm’s way.

“Becks? What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… downstairs, I…” She points with her thumb over her shoulder, and Claire cocks her head to see around her.

“Uh-huh. And…? What about it?”

"I heard… I heard something. I don’t-- I don’t know what I heard, but it… it was weird. Like, really weird. And I just… I just thought you should know.” 

“Oh, honey…” She pulls Rebecca into a hug, a hand coming up to run through her chocolate brown strands reassuringly; alike a mother calming her child, she thinks. “It was probably just the wind. The basement connects to some old tunnels used by miners in the fifties, so you probably just heard the wind or something, or a wolverine… just keep the door closed, okay?”

“I mean, that’s-that’s what I thought, too,” she carefully extricates herself from the warm, comforting embrace of her friend, “but it’s… I don’t think it’s that, Claire. I just… don’t think you should go out alone. Like… like what Chris said-- you remember what he said, don’t you? He said none of us should go out alone, and you know how… freaky it was on the way up, and I’m sure Carlos and Ada can hold their own--”

"Rebecca, sweetie,” Claire interjects, her tone warm and soft, caressing her cheeks and wrapping around her like a security blanket, like the one she had as a child that comforted her on those wild, windy nights that terrified her so awfully. She feels like a child being coddled by her mother all over, and she’s a sucker for it now just as she was then, falling into the safety trap set by calming and soothing voices like Claire’s. “I’ll be fine, okay? Just stay here and let the others know where I am. The reception’s gone out, so even if I wanted to send my bro a text, it’d be impossible. I’ll be right back, I promise. If the reception picks back up when I’m with Leon at the station, I’ll text you ASAP. Okay?”

“Uh…”

“Now come on, let’s get back upstairs. Wait for me until I get back, okay?” With a hand on the younger’s shoulder, they proceed up the staircase and into the sitting room, where Rebecca takes a reluctant seat on the sofa in front of the warm glow of the lit fireplace. “I’ll be fine. Pinky swear.”

“Pinky swear,” she echoes, locking pinkies with her redheaded friend, a wary, strained smile forming when she peers into Claire’s eyes and finds a familiar mirth settling in the grey depths there that translates into her smile. With that, she disembarks into the dark cold night, leaving behind a very disconcerted medic trying her hardest to bask in the warmth of the fireplace, to no avail.

 _Hang in there, Becks… I’ll be right back,_ she promises inwardly, the door clicking shut behind her. She pulls up her hood and fiddles with the flashlight she scooped up on her way out. In the end, she had Ada and Carlos to protect her, should anything go awry, and she wholeheartedly put her faith in her friend to hold her ground if she had to. She was a member of S.T.A.R.S, for god’s sake-- she had a backbone and then some.

Now that she’s reassured herself of her friend’s status, she sets off into the night, busying herself by recalling all the rigorous self-defense training Chris put her through from a very young age. She’s more than confident in her own ability to hold her own, and only wished Chris did the same.

_He’s just looking out for you… wherever you are, Chris; stay safe. Come back safe._

**11:05 pm. 8 hours until dawn.**

_And the award for Jackass of the Year goes to…_

Leon Kennedy sighs and sends his text message with a crestfallen slant of his mouth. The text contains the estimated time of arrival, which does not include the time it’ll take for the cable car to arrive and how long it’ll take to get up the mountain he should’ve been on an hour ago. He should’ve gotten the alcohol and belated Christmas gift he kept for Claire that he intended to give when they met up again while he still had Carlos and Jill in tow; in fact, he should’ve had the gift on hand and the alcohol bought the day before so everything would have been ready to go, but no, nothing ever seems to go out the way Leon wants it to, and there’s no one to blame but himself for his tardiness. 

If he’d bought the alcohol after he and Jill picked Carlos up at the airport, and explained to them he had to pick something up at his place before they went down, he’s almost positive it would have saved so much time. No; instead, he dropped them off, drove back to town, picked up the booze and the gift, misread the directions and ended up somewhere out in the sticks, and had to drive all the way back and start over so he could follow the directions to a T. At least he would’ve had Jill to guide him, since it was her who lead him to the station in the first place to drop them off. 

_Yeah, Leon, good job on getting your shit together._

The cable car arrives with a screech; his groan is an accompaniment to the orchestra of howling wind and grinding metal when he takes his seat and waits an eternity for the doors to shut.

**11:21 pm.**

“Ah, _shit._ "

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot the…” Chris sighs and stops in his tracks, turning to face Jill with slumped shoulders, “...the damn emergency supplies back at the shed.”

“Oh, well… that’s fine, I can go back and get them--”

“No no, I’ll go. You can go on ahead.”

“What? No, I’m closer.”

“Jill, really, it’s fine--”

“Chris, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

“We can go together?”

“Or…” She drawls, taking a step forward to put her hands on his shoulders, to look him square in the eye. “Why don’t you let me go, and consider it recompense for scaring you out of your shorts back there. Sound fair?”

“Jill…”

“I’m not your sister, Chris. You don’t have to fret over me; I can hold my own just fine.”

“I know that.”

“ _Thennn…_ let me go.”

“I…” he sighs, conceding his inevitable defeat. “Alright, fine. I’ll just wait here, I guess.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He nods, and she flashes him a smile; it puts him at ease, if only a little. He takes a seat on a nearby fallen log, his chin falling into the palm of his hand with a sigh. Regardless of what she said and thought, he didn’t feel exactly comfortable letting her go alone. Then again, he supposed he hasn’t felt right about anything since they arrived. 

All of his unease circled back to the murders and the cases that piled up on their desks, day after day without closure. These are the very mountains that harbored the mysterious deaths, and while he trusts Jill wholeheartedly to take care of herself, he thinks his reluctance to let anyone be alone at anytime stems from his own wishes to avoid solitude. In his eyes, two will always be better than one, and with Jill, he felt as if though he had a whole army backing hi--

“SHIT!”

The booming, resonating exclamation throws him off-- literally, he slides off the log rather painfully-- his train of thought. 

_Jill!_

Unaware if he screamed her name or not, he sprints in the direction of the shed, stumbling over his own feet as he went. More than once, he nearly fell on his face, and barely recovered himself in time to avoid kissing the snow-covered ground by jamming his hand into the ground to push himself up. He slides through the threshold of the shed, hands barely gripping onto the doorway in time to prevent himself from colliding into the wall opposite of him, which is adjacent to the window Jill scared him from moments ago. 

“Chris, look at this! Who would do something like this?!”

Jill’s panicked tone permeates the cloud swelling over his thoughts. The aforementioned window is shattered; glass is scattered along the floorboards. In front of the window is a severed elk head, fresh and raw, and Jill stands with her back to the now-shattered window with a hand covering her mouth in horror. Blood streaks her shoulder down to her forearm, and for a dizzying moment, he thinks it’s her own, until he spots the blood pooling around the dead animal. 

“I don’t… I don’t know, but we gotta--” 

“CHRIS!”

Her shriek interrupts him, body bending backward-- no, being forced-- to the window, her hands gripping onto the sides of it with all her strength; her head is uncomfortably bowed back, the pale column of her throat exposed, screaming wildly. The second it takes for Chris to reach out to her feels like an eternity, and just as he’s about to grab onto one of her outstretched hands, he loses her entirely, her lithe body pulled through the window, the jagged remains of it digging into her clothes and flesh, leaving behind fresh streaks of blood and torn pieces of cloth. He slips on the pool of blood and lands right in it; his face smeared with it when he scrambles to his feet and launches himself out the door.

“JILL!”

“CHRIS, HELP ME--”

**11:34 pm.**

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That scream-- you didn’t hear that?”

A distant scream shatters the quietude of the sitting room Rebecca and Carlos occupy. The expression on the youth’s face paints one of deep concern-- and if Carlos had to guess, fear-- so deep, in fact, she looks pale with it, and now he starts to become afflicted by it in waves.

“I’m gonna go check on the guys at the shed,” she announces, bounding to her feet instantly. The blanket on her body pools around her feet, as does Carlos’ when he follows suit. “You should-- you should stay here and keep Ada company.”

“Wha-- hey, wait, just hold on a sec--” 

The door slams shut, leaving him dumbfounded and lacking clarity more than ever. He looks bewildered, slowly lowering himself to the sofa to process what had just happened. Now he’s got two options: one, chase down Rebecca and offer to go in her stead, or two, stay here and wait for the others to come back. 

If he waits, Rebecca could find herself in grave danger-- if he doesn’t, who’s gonna let the others know what’s going on? When he came back down from finding blankets (and nearly walked in on Ada in the process, which might have resulted in him missing a few vital parts of himself such as his arms, hands… fingers), Rebecca told him Claire went to meet up with Leon at the station, and Jill followed after Chris when she decreed it was taking a little too long for him to come back.

He’s wasted too much time pondering this-- searching for Rebecca’s out of the question. He concedes his defeat in the form of a deflated sigh, sinking deeper into the sofa. Not long after, he hears a thud coming from upstairs, that of which he brushes off as Ada dropping something. Another sound; banging, thumping, like someone hammering away on a closed window. 

“Ada?” He calls up to her, and is promptly met with a deafening silence. He takes her lack of response as sign of irritation from walking in on her a little while ago; which, in retrospect, wasn’t entirely his fault-- he had no way of knowing which doors go where, and she should’ve kept the door locked-- “Look, I know you’re pissed, but at least let me know you’re doing okay up there.”

No response.

“This ain’t funny, chica.”

_Maybe she slipped and knocked herself out._

“Alright, I’m coming up.”

On his way to the staircase, he stops by the light switches next to the door and flicks one on; the living room lights up immediately. Well, they made it to the generator. Now where the hell are they?

Just in case the lights try to screw around, he takes up a candle and gets his lighter handy to use. The hallways are dark, though lit enough for him to see where he’s going this time around. He lightly knocks on the bathroom door, to which he is met with something like “go away!” and he nods inwardly. Well, it was better than nothing.

The house is oddly discomforting now that he’s one of the only occupants. It feels like all the life’s been drained from it, like darkness swept in and blew everyone away. In a way, it wasn’t so far from the truth-- the darkness is what called to their departure, after all. It’s a given that Carlos didn’t exactly trust Ada, and though he wasn’t alone, her presence didn’t put his heart and mind at ease anymore than it did knowing he had a companion. When he pulls away from the door and makes his way around the corridor, he thinks of the cannibalistic murders Jill briefly touched upon on their way up to the lodge, and though he hadn’t been very concerned before, he is more so now that he recalls their conversation. 

**_Snkktsnkttsnktt._ **

_Is something… scratching at a window?_

**_Snkktsnkttsnktt._ **

He opens his mouth to call to Ada, though he thinks better of it. The sound appears to be coming from the room directly next to him, which is, incidentally, right next to the bathroom Ada occupies. 

_There’s no way she can’t hear that._

Nonetheless, he makes his way to the light switch on the wall next to a different door (which he assumed to be a guest room) and flicks it upward. Almost instantly, it shatters; the most he does is blink rapidly. With a wave of his hand, he chalks the incident up to nothing more than coincidence-- the house is old and rickety, after all-- though what he can’t shrug off is that incessant scratching sound that is, in fact, beginning to grate on his nerves. Carlos is rarely unnerved by things that go bump in the night.

He opens the door the sound appears to be coming from, and proceeds with caution. He tries the light switch here, too; nothing. Figures. He shakes his head and approaches the window. He can’t see a goddamn thing out there, except for whirling snow and trees. A branch glances against the window with every gust of wind; it looks small enough for him to snap off. He’s sure the Burtons won’t miss it. He opens the window and reaches out for it, mostly grasping air each time he thinks he’s got it.

_C’mere, you little shit--_

The wind keeps blowing it just out of his reach-- it irritates him immensely. Just when he’s about to have a good grasp on it, it swings away. He’s so absorbed in catching that branch, he renders himself senseless to his surroundings; just as he’s about to unleash a commemorative shout of victory for successfully grappling it, he sinks to the floor like lead, his body heaped in front of an open window, the branch uselessly clutched in his hand, having snapped when he fell unconscious. The last thing he sees is a branch swaying back and forth, and the last thing he feels is a sharp, stabbing pain emanating from the back of his head. 

At least he got the branch.


End file.
